Mad to be Saved
by MoonstoneRain
Summary: Casey, a college student who has kept her supernatural talents hidden, finds herself caught up in SHIELD after harboring a would-be supervillain-but a certain scientist has a crush, and Loki does not take kindly to rivals. Throw in some Chitauri revenge and you've got a recipe for disaster... Loki/OC, minor Bruce/OC, eventual ThunderScience (slash warning!)
1. Chapter 1

_**Hi, I'm MoonstoneRain and I'm nervous as all hell. It's my first time posting here and my first time writing Avengers fanfiction…be kind please? =)**_

_**Rating is T for the usual—some violence, mostly off-screen depending on where I take this, kissing, bits of dirty humor here and there, the occasional swearword, some sex references (most of which can be blamed on my attempts to keep Tony Stark in-character).**_

_**Disclaimer: I don't own the Avengers. Casey is my own creation; the rest belong to Marvel. Any song lyrics or quotes you may recognize, you may safely assume that I don't own those, either.**_

Chapter 1: Just Another American Saturday Night

Bruce Banner sighed heavily and pulled off his glasses to rub his eyes. Of course, this would have to happen tonight. Tonight, when Tony Stark came back from a long, unwelcome, probably borderline-violent meeting with Fury, he would find a badly failed experiment in his and Bruce's lab.

_Well, let's look on the bright side_, Banner comforted himself. _It could've gone much worse._

He looked over to the underlying cause of his exasperation, a very pretty girl—a very _young_, very pretty girl, twenty-one and a junior in college, to be precise—and thought dryly, _At least you managed not to turn her into a hulking rage-beast as well._

The girl, whose clothes and face were still covered in fine green dust from the exploded beaker, started slightly when Bruce looked at her. "I'm sorry, Dr. Banner—" she began timidly, but he cut her off.

"Not your fault, Casey. I'm the idiot who told you to take it off the burner." He sighed. "Well, come on." He stood up and nodded towards the lab door. "Let's get you cleaned up before something really bad happens. For all we know I _have_ poisoned you."

"I doubt that, Dr. Banner. Unless you were seriously lying to me, last I checked you were trying to _reverse_ the effects of your exposure to radiation, not _replicate_ them."

"Yeah, because these things _always_ have the _exact_ results you're expecting," he snorted. Working with Tony Stark 24/7 really honed a person's sarcasm skills, whether this was their intent or not. "Come on," he said again, nudging his relatively new intern to the door. "I don't want to take any chances."

His brief sarcasm seemed to have cowed the brief spirit that had flared up in the girl when she responded to his crack about poisoning her. Now she quietly obeyed his instructions and went into the bathroom/locker room that Tony had insisted on putting in just down the hall from the lab when he found out that the intern Bruce had so grudgingly taken was a female.

Once she was inside, Bruce sighed and put his face in his hands again. Why did he even bother trying? He knew by now that he was never going to find a cure for the "Other Guy," and he sure as hell knew better than to try to do so with an innocent bystander in harm's way. Suppose—he shuddered at the thought—the experiment had resulted in his becoming Hulk permanently?

The image of the girl's broken, twisted body at his feet, amidst the wreckage of a completely totaled lab, flashed through his mind. He shuddered again. No, that could not happen.

_Right. No more experimenting, especially not with her around._

While Bruce wouldn't exactly say he was in love with his new intern—or "infatuated," as Steve and Thor insisted on calling it—he was certainly attracted to her. Then again, he was also attracted to Thor—not that he'd ever admit that to anyone—and he'd once had a dream about Natasha that had haunted him for weeks and made him devoutly thankful that Clint wasn't a mind-reader. Then there was all the (unintentional, he was certain) flirting that the ever-oblivious Tony kept throwing at him…

Okay. It had been quite a while. That was obvious. But it was no reason to behave like an animal—Bruce internally snorted at that image—by hitting on this girl, this pretty, readily available girl who Tony swore on Coulson's soul was attracted to Bruce (not that Bruce himself was even remotely sure of that) and putting her in a compromising position.

Casey Kyle, a double major in biology and, for some unfathomable reason, visual art, had responded to Tony Stark's call for interns three weeks ago, and both Tony and Bruce agreed that she was the best go-for they could've obtained. She was whip-smart and a fast, efficient worker. (Though why Tony had thought they needed another person in the lab was so far beyond Bruce he didn't even bother questioning it after a while.) Problem was, she was into environmental science and human anatomy rather than physics and chemistry, which sometimes resulted in…well…situations like _this_.

What had happened tonight was a typical disaster. Bruce had given Casey what he hadn't realized was an unclear order. He'd told her to turn off the burner, which she had taken as "remove boiling mixture from heat." When she'd put it down (because, obviously, she couldn't hold the damn thing forever), she'd put it down on…well, Bruce wasn't sure, but it was clearly an explosive, whatever it had been, because the pot had exploded and the sluggishly-boiling mixture had turned to fine powder. They'd both probably inhaled it and Bruce could only pray that his half-finished cure had been harmless.

Which, as Casey had astutely pointed out, it should've been. It had been intended to negate the negative qualities of something else, not enhance or, God forbid, replicate them. But still. The explosion itself could have caused serious harm…

Casey emerged from the bathroom, having changed from the jeans and button-down shirt she wore to work in the lab into one of the vintage-style dresses she wore on the street. "I'm sorry, I—I didn't bring any other clothes," she stammered when she saw Bruce's raised eyebrows.

He waved a hand dismissively. "Don't worry about it. Hey…" He leaned forward, locking his eyes on hers. "_Don't blame yourself_. This was my fault. You're gonna be okay, we're both okay. You got me?"

She nodded shyly. "I'm so—" she began, but he cut her off.

"No. No apologies; it wasn't your fault so you have nothing to apologize for. Now, do yourself a favor. Go home, get some rest, and let me straighten this out with Tony, all right?" He saw the doubtful look in her eyes. "Go on," he urged her. "You shouldn't have to worry about this."

She sighed and pushed a lock of hair from her eyes. "I…I still think I should have known better than to—"

"No," he cut her off again. "You're not a chemistry major; you probably haven't even taken chem, have you?" At her head shake, he said, "Well, there you go. I should've been more clear. So, again I say: no blaming yourself. Got it?" This time she nodded, and he smiled encouragingly, hoping to earn a smile from her. He didn't get it. "Okay, so…" He cast around for a way to dismiss the girl without making her feel unwanted. "Go get some sleep, do whatever; I'm sure you've got classwork to finish. I'll let you know when to come in tomorrow." He rolled his eyes. "Or should I say, Tony will let you know in the most obnoxious way possible when you should come in tomorrow."

That elicited a small laugh from Casey. She looked up at Bruce through her eyelashes, and he wondered for the fiftieth time if she had any idea what kind of effect that could have on a man. "Well…thank you for letting me go early," she said shyly. Three weeks and she _still_ seemed intimidated by his presence. Bruce often comforted himself by recalling that she seemed equally intimidated by Tony, leading him to believe that it was their brainpower that cowed her and not their ability to kill her suddenly and violently at their discretion.

Which, of course, Tony would never do, and Bruce would never do if he could help it. He had to believe the Hulk liked her, at least a little…and what happened next, what _always_ happened when she left, seemed a good reason why:

"Goodnight, Dr. Banner." Casey smiled a little, and blushed when she said, as she looked straight at Bruce's chest, right where his heart would be if she could see it, "And goodnight, Hulk."

Something inside Bruce twitched, and he almost laughed, as he had the first time she'd done that. The fact that she acted as though the Other Guy could hear her was not only amusing, it was downright adorable. He contented himself with a smile and a, "Goodnight, Casey."

When she left he sighed and looked at the mess they'd managed to make in the lab. It was going to be a long night. And when Tony got back, he'd have some serious explaining to do.

Casey Kyle dragged herself up two flights of stairs, down three hallways, and into a room that looked more like the Batcave than the dorm of a college girl. Between her comic-hero-plastered walls, inventions (and parts of inventions) scattered over the desk, shelves, and floor, and the pile of camera equipment in one corner, the whole room looked like the lab of a young-at-heart scientist.

Casey sighed and collapsed on her bed without so much as taking off her coat. So, she'd screwed up again. But he'd been so nice about it. That was it—Dr. Banner was always _so damn nice_ about everything. Why was he so kind to her? Why didn't he just give her the standard "You careless head-in-the-clouds worthless moron" lecture that she so easily earned from everyone else? She knew he went far too easy on her. If it had just been Stark working in that lab, she'd probably have been fired by now.

She closed her eyes. Tears were forming at a rapid rate, and she was afraid that if she didn't calm herself she'd end up bringing the posters on her wall to life again, like she had when she'd found out that her supposed prince charming was cheating on her. She really had to get that under control. No sense in bringing the stupid nosy government into it…_again_…

Mutant, they'd initially called her. Mutant, indeed. The only thing she was good for was hiding and working for other people. If she could just keep from drawing attention to herself…that was good enough for her.

A hand rested on the center of her back and she jumped in terror. She sat up straight, fearing the worst—she'd either brought the posters to life or she'd managed to animate her body pillow, an experience she desperately wanted to avoid repeating—but she immediately relaxed when she saw that it was neither. She'd just woken her unofficial, non-college-sanctioned (non-college attending, for that matter) roommate.

She smiled and leaned her head on her best friend's shoulder. "Hi, Loki."


	2. Chapter 2

_**I forgot to mention…the timeline of this is roughly three weeks after the Chituari takeover attempt. Just in case anyone was confused. Yes, that does mean that right after the Chituari were taken care of, Bruce moved into Stark Tower and Tony dragged a poor, unsuspecting intern into it.**_

Chapter two: Alternative Locations

"What the _hell_!"

That was Tony's response to the situation at hand.

Not the response to the mess in the lab, which he would discover later, and when he did, his response would be a mere laugh and an "Oh, Brucie. Whatever will we do with you?" Which Bruce would honor not with a verbal reply, but with a well-deserved middle finger.

No, what he was responding to right now was Thor's presence in Stark Tower. In Tony's lounge room. On his bar, to be precise.

Tony did not like coming home after a long day to find a demigod, however friendly, literally sitting on his alcohol stash.

Thor immediately jumped to his feet. "Greetings, Man of Iron. I apologize for the disturbance of your tower, but I am in desperate need of your assistance." He sounded so eager, so _sincere_, that Tony's irritation vanished. It was hard to stay mad at Thor.

"Sure thing, Point Break. C'mon, have a seat," Tony said, gesturing to the stools lining the bar. "You want a drink? I'm having one." He went around behind the bar and pulled out a bottle of scotch.

Thor shook his head. "No, thank you, I have an urgent matter to discuss."

Tony froze, one hand on the bottle. Thor meant business. "Oh, okay. What's the problem, big guy?" He took his tumbler of scotch and came back around the bar, taking the seat beside Thor. He sincerely hoped that this "urgent matter" didn't have anything to do with the demigod he not-so-affectionately called _Reindeer Games_, but…well…

_Hundred bucks says this has to do with Loki. Anyone wanna bet?_

Thor took a deep breath. "My brother has passed."

It took a hell of a lot to render Tony Stark speechless. But this was one such occasion where he had nothing to say except a rather strangled-sounding, "_What?_"

Because, come on. Of all the things Thor could have come to him about. "My brother has escaped," or "My brother is trying to take over Asgard using nothing but a pita sandwich and some mice as his weapons," or "My brother killed my father." Anything but "Well, you see Tony, my insane alien brother who tried to take over your planet is dead, and I'm really sad about it, please play my therapist if you have the time?"

"My brother is dead," Thor repeated patiently, clearly taking the _what_ literally. "We found him in his cell this morning. Cold. Lifeless. And, strangest thing of all—not blue."

Now Tony was really thankful he'd poured that scotch, because this getting through this conversation with his sanity intact was looking more and more dependent on chemical assistance. "Okay…I'm missing something here."

Thor's eyes went wide. "Oh, I forgot to explain—Loki was adopted. He is not of Asgard. He is of another species, called the Jotunns. His natural form, which All-Father believes he would revert to if dead, possesses blue skin which burns anyone who dares touch him with its freezing temperature. The Loki we found in the cell is unchanged. He retained his Asgard form. But we examined him thoroughly and there's no doubt that whoever was in that cell is, in fact, deceased."

Tony took another hit of scotch. _Dammit, where's Bruce when I need him?_ Bruce had the patience to deal with a situation like this. Tony, on the other hand, was ready to shout at Thor, "Get to the point already!" Instead, Tony contented himself with saying, "Okay. So how can I help?"

"I haven't finished explaining yet." Thor waited for Tony's nod as an indication that he could go on. "Well, our gatekeeper, Heimdall, has not searched for Loki on Midgard for many of your Midgardian weeks now. He did not see reason to; he thought he needed to guard whoever was in the cell, which was certainly not Loki, as we can now confirm. But now he's found Loki—whom we believe to be the true Loki—here. In your realm. He hasn't threatened anyone, that we know of. He seems to have taken up residence with a young Midgardian lady whom Heimdall says you have regular contact with."

Tony actually groaned out loud at that. "Don't say Pepper. Please, Thor, I'm begging you."

Thor looked confused. "No, why would Pepper truck with Loki, however harmless he may seem? No, Man of Iron, it is not your betrothed." Tony nearly choked on his scotch at that, but Thor calmly went on, "It is the young lady who assists you and Tony. Casey, Heimdall called her."

"Holy _fuck_!" Tony nearly dropped his tumbler. "Jesus Christ, Thor—are you _sure_?"

"Heimdall sees everything," Thor said, as if it were something that any child should know.

This only served to further infuriate Tony. "Yeah, well, I think he missed something, because he didn't detect a freaking stunt double in your jails and the real McCoy on _my planet_! Jesus, Thor. Do you realize that if Loki were to try something right now—" Tony managed to stop himself. Thor did not take kindly to any aspersions cast on his brother, however well-deserved they may be.

Thor looked pleadingly at Tony. "I know, Man of Iron. I know you and the others believe him to be volatile, and you are correct, he very well may be. But something is happening here that I do not understand, and I believe that you and the other Midgardian warriors may be able to help."

"Yeah, well, let me go get Bruce. He lives here now." Tony paused, and then said, "And thanks for coming to me, Thor. You trusted me." He reached out and patted the ripped demigod on the shoulder. "Means a lot to me."

Thor practically beamed. "Thank you, Man of Iron."

Tony had to smile at that. "And for the love of God, call me Tony."

"All right…Tony." Thor paused. "Did you say Dr. Banner resides with you?"

"Yeah," Tony said casually. Thor's face immediately turned red. Tony raised his eyebrows. "Is there some kind of problem there?"

Thor shook his head. "No," he said quickly. "No, I will be very glad to see Dr. Banner again."

"Okay then. I'm going to go get him." Tony thumped Thor on the shoulder one more time and then, more confused than ever, he went to his lab to see if Bruce was still there. With any luck, Casey would be there as well; he could ask her what the hell she was thinking, keeping herself a pet crazy demigod under her bed.

He didn't find Casey, but he did find an opportunity to tease Bruce, and in his mind that was even better.

_Five weeks ago_

Casey dragged herself up the second and final flight of stairs. _Jesus Christ, that's the last time I'm asking for a single. So not worth the walk._ She flopped on her bed, facedown, too tired to even take her shoes off. _Just. Fucking. Kill. Me. Now._

Her day had been long, and rough, and the frustration consistently boiling up inside of her had, at one point, resulted in bringing a streetlamp to life. Thankfully she'd managed to end it before anyone had noticed, but it was a close call, and she didn't like when that happened.

The way Casey liked to think of her fairly limited powers was by likening herself to Matilda Wormwood. She could animate things. She could make things spin, levitate, stop on a dime, whiz across the room, or crash through walls. This power was motivated mainly by emotion. When she was frustrated, angry, hurt, sad, or just generally unhappy, it was _very_ easy to do. When she was over-excited or extremely happy, it was fairly easy to do. But when she was frightened—forget it. Nothing.

She had recently discovered that, with a good amount of concentration, she could read people's thoughts. (She was glad that one didn't come naturally; the last thing she wanted was to hear random thoughts coming at her all day long.) She wasn't exactly psychic, but she had an unusually strong intuition that had once led her father to dub her "the best judge of character on earth." She had mild empathy abilities; she could sense emotions, which took only slightly less concentration than reading minds, but she could not, as far as she could tell, change anyone's emotions—which, again, suited her just fine.

She wasn't exactly volatile. She'd learned to control herself, for the most part. But there were times when her power would get ahead of her. Every time she "slipped up," she was in danger. And she couldn't forget that for a minute. So when a crash sounded through her tiny room, causing the walls to vibrate and making things spill off her desk, it naturally scared the living shit out of her—not because she thought there was an intruder, but because she thought she'd caused it.

Casey sat bold upright and almost screamed—but froze in place when she saw the true reason for the crash: a slender young man with dark hair and very strange taste in clothes, in an unceremonious heap on her floor. She jumped off her bed, wary. She'd never, to her knowledge, conjured something like this—but it was entirely possible that she'd somehow summoned him through her open window; she'd done _that_ unintentionally before (but never with a human, thank God).

She knelt beside the writhing heap of leather and messy ink-black hair. "Are you okay?" she asked timidly.

The man sat up and swept his hair out of his startlingly-green eyes. For a moment, an inexplicable sensation of warmth flowed through her, a comfort she hadn't known since she was fifteen years old. Whoever he was, he reminded her of home. "I believe so. Where am I?" He looked around her room, clearly bewildered.

"Um. You're in my room. Don't freak out, but I think I got you up here. I'm sorry, I—um—don't ask, okay? I'll just get you out of here and you'll never have to see me again. And, um, if you could—not—tell anyone—about this?" She knew she sounded pathetic on the last few words; she hated to sound like she was begging, but she didn't have much of a choice.

"I am in your chambers? I apologize, my lady, but—" The man took in her clothes, then took another look at her room. "What realm is this?" he asked, his face showing even more confusion than it had a moment ago.

_Well, of course the poor jackass is confused, he's just been levitated through a fucking window_—Casey began the usual process of scolding herself, and then one of his words hit her. _Realm_. "You're…not from around here, are you." _No duh._

The man shook his head and, suddenly, jumped to his feet, quite easily for having been just crashed into the floor of a dorm. "No, my lady. I am Loki of Asgard." He made a very handsome-looking bow, reminding her of the stories her father had read to her as a child—princes and knights and centaurs and—wait—

_Gods._

_Loki._

_Oh my God, I know that name._

Casey jumped to her feet again. "Loki? As in, God of Mischief? That Loki?" She ran to her bookcase before he had a chance to answer, and pulled down a book that looked older than God himself. "This—" She frantically ruffled the pages until she found a drawing of a man chained to a boulder, with a snake hanging ominously over his head. "_This_ is you?" She showed him the picture.

Loki pulled a face. "You wish to torture me, Mortal? But yes…unfortunately, that is me."

Casey dropped her book. Her eyes locked hard on Loki. She realized, in that moment, one of two things was happening. Option one: This guy was a cosplaying whacko who wanted to mess with her head as a way of getting revenge for being hauled through a window.

Or…

Option two: He actually was who he said he was, in which case there was a fucking _Norse God_, standing smack in the middle of her fucking _dorm room_.

Well, that would certainly explain the sense of familiarity. How often had her father read her those myths and legends as a child? She'd been fond of magic even then, and he'd encouraged it. She was very, _very_ familiar with magical legends.

Hesitantly, she edged towards Loki again. "So, you're real."

"I am," he said, seeming slightly amused.

"And you can, I'm assuming, do things. Magic, I mean."

"If I choose, yes."

Casey almost demanded a demonstration at that point. But she stopped at the last minute, knowing it was probably a bad idea to offend this maybe-god by saying, "Prove it." So instead, she said, "Could you show me?"

Loki smiled, it was clear he'd been expecting this. "Of course. Watch." He made the book she'd dropped fly from its position on the floor and back into the shelf.

_Big deal, I can do that!_ Casey almost laughed. But she didn't. Instead, she locked her eyes on his, held out her hand, and made the book fly from the shelf and into her grasp. With so much adrenaline flowing through her it was actually much easier than she'd expected.

It was Loki's turn to be shocked. "But—you are a mortal!" he protested.

She rolled her eyes. "And you're clearly not. Your point?"

"Mortals cannot do such tricks!"

"Well, this one can."

"But—" Loki's eyes were the size of teacups. He stared at Casey, as though he expected her to turn into a dragon. "_How?_"

Casey sighed and turned her face from Loki's, uncomfortable under his intense stare. "I've been asking myself that for years."

Loki took a tentative step towards her. "You've no idea as to how you acquired such power?"

Casey shrugged. "I've been able to do it for as long as I can remember."

Loki's expression had subtly begun to change from shock to curiosity. "Is that so? And what is it, precisely, that you can do?"

"Move things. Make things come to life. Make things fly around the room, make things stop if they're moving towards me. Make things come to me if I want them. But—see—thing is, I do a lot of it accidentally. And—and I can sense emotions. And read thoughts. Those are the only things I don't do by accident."

Loki's brow creased. "But—the book—"

"It's mainly based on emotion. I was excited because I could finally show someone what I can do without the fear of being institutionalized. I had a ton of adrenaline in me, so it was easy to make the book move. I probably couldn't do it now. But—if you want—I can show you something else."

He moved a step back. She wondered if it was intentional or not. "Could you?" Doubt seeped into his face. "Reading thoughts is no small matter. Even many Asgardian sorcerers cannot do that without intense concentration."

"Oh, intense concentration is an understatement," she admitted. "It takes a lot of effort. But I can do it."

"Show me," Loki demanded.

Casey mentally noted that she'd been right about Loki not wanting to be ordered around; he clearly preferred to be the one in command. "All right. I need you to think of something. A word, a sentence, even an image or a memory if you'd like."

Loki smiled indulgently and nodded his consent. Casey took a deep breath and looked into his eyes, focusing every ounce of her attention on him until she'd almost forgotten her own identity, so intense was her concentration on his.

She closed her eyes. She was beginning to get something. A shimmering, half-baked outline, outer space, the dark sky barely discernible from the inside of her own eyelids, looking up, a man looking down from above, long hair, dangling off the edge of what looked like a rainbow—

So he was showing her a memory. Or maybe a fantasy. She was beginning to feel the emotions radiating off him now—a bit of doubt, mostly hope, with just the slightest twinge of fear. She frowned and almost broke her concentration. _What is he afraid of? It can't be me…_

She refocused. Imagined she was inside him. Imagined she'd possessed him, imagined she _was_ him—saw, in that moment, completely from his eyes—

_I am a monster, I don't deserve this, I have failed, I have lost—I let go. I hear Thor's cry of pain but it's too late now, I could use what magic I have left to fly back to him. I don't, they're better off without a failure like me_

_Then I fall, and fall, and fall for an eternity, I fall until I forget who I am and what I've done, forget everything except the sensation of falling_

_The landing breaks my entire self, breaks me into what must be a thousand pieces. I don't die, I can't die, all I can do is lie, helpless, while shadowy figures encircle me, and I feel their evil radiating but there is nothing I can do to save myself now_

_The creature in front of me holds his spear, his magical spear, that spear that has more power than I ever could and I back away in fear—I don't show fear—I never show fear—_

_The pain is intense, searing, unbearable. TELL ME WHO YOU ARE!_ _I scream, a wordless, pleading sound, I don't _know_ who I am anymore, all I know is that the pain must end or I'll die, now. IF YOU WON'T TELL ME—HAVE IT YOUR WAY! _

_My mind is invaded, images, memories, a thousand things flying up to the front of my mind—Thor beating me at everything, my so-called father torturing me with his punishments and what he insisted was "tough love," my fears, my failures, my wishes and long-lost dreams, everything that makes me who I am—and it hurts, I scream again, I beg him to stop he won't, I'm dying, I'm dying, I'm dying—_

The memory of his pain shattered her concentration. She staggered backwards a step, gasping. "Oh my God!" She looked at him, tentative, almost fearful. "_Oh my God_," she breathed, almost reverently, staring at him with a new respect in her eyes. "You—you—oh my God, Loki—please tell me—that was pretend, right? You didn't actually—because no one, you don't—you can't have—no one could deal with all of that—could they? Did you? Oh my God…"

Loki waited for her babbling to end before he told her, his voice unusually gentle, "Yes, my lady, I endured all of that."

Tears flooded Casey's eyes. She'd learned to control her emotions fairly well. But this was more than she could've ever imagined; she'd endured her share of hardship but this—this was different. She didn't know how anyone could survive such pain.

And that was what made her run full-tilt into the demigod in her dorm room, and throw her arms around him in the tightest hug she'd ever given.

She drew back after a moment. "I'm so sorry," she whispered.

He looked at her nervously, almost admiringly. "And why must you apologize? None of that was your doing, after all."

"I know. But—" She pulled back and wiped her teary eyes. "I want to help. I mean. I don't know how…I mean, you're a freaking _god_, and I—" She sucked in another deep breath. "If—if you need to stay somewhere—you can stay with me."

Loki's eyes lit up. "That is a very kind offer, indeed. As you saw, I was banished from my realm and ended up in a…well, a rather unforgiving place. I would be very pleased to stay with you, my lady."

He took her hand and kissed the back, making her blush and reminding her of those stories again—all the fairy tales she'd read as a child. It was—_nice_, to say the least—having this, her own little piece of a fairy tale, standing in front of her, interacting with her, treating her like a human, an individual, even after she'd let him see her deepest secret.

Besides—he _needed_ her. _Monster_, he'd called himself in her memory. She knew better. She could sense it, just in his memories, in the emotions she'd felt radiating from him. "Best judge of character in the world," her father had called her. That memory strengthened her resolve. She was never wrong.

"I'd be happy to have you stay," she said, unable to keep a smile off her face. "And—and you don't have to call me 'my lady,' by the way. I mean—it's _nice_, but—no one does that anymore."

"Oh…I see." Loki paused, clearly waiting for something. It wasn't until he prompted her, "And what should I call you, then?" that Casey realized she'd never told him her name.

"Oh! Sorry, I forgot. My name is—Casey. Casey Kyle."

"Casey Kyle. An honor to meet you, Lady Casey." He kissed the back of her hand again. "I thank you again for your kindness. You shall not regret your decision."

And call it intuition, or insanity—she'd often been accused of possessing both—but Casey knew that was the truth.

A wonderful two weeks followed—two weeks of story-sharing and bonding, of catching Loki up on American pop culture and bringing Casey up to speed on Magic Controlling 101. Soon, she could actually control her powers to some extent—and even acquired some new ones. Loki taught her how to make things disappear and re-appear, which definitely came in handy for cleaning her room.

While she went to her classes, he would stay in her room, sometimes watching TV on her laptop, but mainly voraciously reading the piles and piles of books she'd acquired over the years. She'd come home and they'd talk about what he'd read. It was much nicer, Casey reflected, than coming home to an empty room every night.

And then one day, Casey came home from her eight AM class to find Loki in a panic. "Oh, thank the Fates," he breathed when he saw her walk through the door. "I very nearly left to look for you. We must escape. Now."

"What? Why?"

"Chituari. Here, in your realm. It's on your television."

Casey raced to the dorm's common room and turned on the news. Sure enough, Stark Tower—which was within biking distance from her school—seemed to be under attack, from a huge, dragon-like UFO that could probably have crushed her campus with one landing. "Oh my God!"

Loki appeared at her side. "Do you see? We have to leave, and quickly."

Casey turned to him. "And where do you propose we go? For all we know, all of Earth could be under attack."

Loki shook his head. "I used your internet." (Whatever she did, she could not get him to use the word _computer_ instead of _internet_; they seemed interchangeable to Loki.) "There is a place called California, it's quite far away from here—"

"No," Casey said firmly. "Loki, _calm down_. We're staying right here, and we are going to turn off the TV, and we are not going to worry."

"Why?" he demanded.

"Because—you see that giant green guy, right there?" She pointed to the Hulk, currently hard at work smashing the Chituari like flies. "That's the fucking _Hulk_. And you see him, right there?" She pointed to Iron Man, flying through the sky like a stunt pilot without the plane. "That's _Iron Man_. And trust me—they've got this. I promise you, by afternoon, this will be over. All over."

"How do you know?" Loki demanded. "Did you not tell me that these men—this Hulk, this Man of Iron—are legends, just as I am to your fellow Midgardians?"

Casey smiled. "You're missing a vital point here, Loki. Yes, they're legendary. But they _exist_."

Loki looked at her apprehensively. Finally he nodded in consent. "Fine. We won't flee. But you must promise you'll stay by my side today."

"I wouldn't leave you for anything," she promised.

And as she'd predicted, the Chituari were gone by that afternoon. "See?" She smiled. "We _do_ have heroes on Midgard."

"I am aware," Loki said with a little smile. "I've been reading your history books."

When she'd first got the internship with Tony Stark and Bruce Banner, Loki seemed on edge, until she reminded him that Bruce Banner was _the freaking Hulk_, who had succeeded in killing most of the Chituari. "This is the guy who basically kicked the hell out of the people who tortured you," she pointed out. Loki agreed that was a good person to have on their side. So she went.

But she didn't realize that it would result in her waking in the middle of the night, with a gun pointed at her face, and a deep voice saying, "You have precisely five seconds to stand up and put your hands behind your back, before I blow you and your crazy pet alien to hell and back."


	3. Chapter 3

_**This is a long one, I know it probably drags a little once we get into S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters, but I felt like that conversation needed to be shown in full.**_

_**Also I feel like my Loki is really OOC. Sorry about that. I'm trying to make him more bitter, I swear.**_

Chapter three: Question of the Ages

"Tony Stark, may I ask you a question?"

Tony sighed and looked up from the heavy file that S.H.I.E.L.D. had compiled on Loki, which the Avengers were supposed to read while Fury and some of his most trusted agents went to find Loki. For a moment, Thor worried that he'd interrupted Tony's reading, and interrupting the man when he was at work, Thor had learned through trial and error, was not a good idea.

But Tony looked very relieved to see Thor sitting there. "God, yes. Anything's better than reading this—no offense; I know he's your brother and whatnot, but…" Tony trailed off, leaving Thor to guess that a dictionary-sized file on a person you only had bad memories of was not pleasant reading for anyone. "Anyway, yeah, you can ask me anything. And it's just Tony, remember?"

"My apologies, Tony."

"No problem, take a seat." Thor hesitantly sat on the couch beside Tony, who tossed the heavy file onto the coffee table. "Hey, Point Break, before I forget. Want that drink now?"

Thor relaxed a little, and offered Tony one of his famous heart-melting smiles. "That would be quite welcome, thank you. This is not an easy topic to discuss."

Tony got up to go to the bar. "Oh yeah? Let me guess, you didn't tell the team everything about Loki? Does he have some new voodoo we need to be aware of?"

Thor bristled at that. "No! Why would I withhold information from my fellow wariors?"

Tony shrugged as he poured two scotches. "Hey, it could happen. God knows if it were Pepper in trouble I'd do anything to cover her ass."

"Loki is a different matter," Thor insisted. "I _want_ him to be held responsible for his actions."

"Fair enough, Hammerman. So…" Tony handed Thor one of the glasses and flopped back onto the couch. "What did you want to talk to me about?"

Oh, right. There was an initial purpose to this discussion, wasn't there? Thor sighed and looked into his drink. He wished he were more familiar with Midgardian slang; it would probably make this conversation easier. But Tony, he was sure, would be easier to deal with than any other of his teammates. The Captain was too uptight; he wouldn't be forthcoming with Thor. Natasha and Clint were too jaded, and Bruce…well, Bruce was just not an option. So, smart-mouth as he may be, Tony could at least provide some insight, and if that came with a healthy dose of mockery, well, that was a risk Thor would just have to take.

"I need to discuss a matter of Midgardian courtship with you," Thor admitted.

Tony raised his eyebrows. "Ohhh, is it your lady-friend? What was her name, the chick who tried to tangle with Coulson?"

Thor chuckled at this description. "Jane? No, Jane and I are over. She didn't want to wait for me, and I understand that. She deserved a life of her own."

"Very noble of you, Sir Lancelot," Tony remarked, before downing his entire drink in one gulp. "So, if it isn't your fair lady, then who is it?"

"It's merely a general question," Thor said quickly, and then mentally kicked himself. He sounded entirely too defensive. Tony Stark would surely see through him in a moment if he kept this up. "I was just wondering…is it considered acceptable, in this realm, for a man to court another man?"

Tony let out a low whistle; whatever he was expecting Thor to say, that clearly wasn't it. "To varying degrees. Some accept it more than others. Just outta curiosity, is it acceptable on Planet of the Knights?"

"If you mean Asgard, couldn't you just say so? Forgive me, friend, but it _is_ quite difficult to keep up with all of your various code names for your friends and familiar places."

Tony laughed a little. "Sorry, big guy. I mean, do Asgardians think it's okay?

"Well, yes. We learned the difficult way that it is unacceptable to trifle with matters of the heart. Love, as we learned in our early days, is more powerful than almost any magic."

Tony made a face. "Wish they thought that way here."

A nervous feeling began to grip Thor's already-unsettled heart. "Why?" he asked, almost fearing the answer. "I thought you said it was accepted here?"

"Well, yeah, but here's the thing, Thunder Road. It's only just started to catch on in the last few decades or so. For a long time, people actually thought it was a disease or a perversion. It's only recently that people have started to accept that it's not going to hurt anybody if two guys or two chicks get down to business."

Thor was officially confused. "But you just said…"

Tony sighed and set his now-empty glass down. "Okay, let me try to make it more simple for you. There are some pretty varied reactions to same-sex—uh—courting, okay? Some people are okay with it. Like me, for example. I personally wouldn't go for another man, but if, say, one of my teammates did, I wouldn't stop working with them because of it. But a lot of people were raised to think it's wrong, so they get pretty freaked out when they're confronted with it. Now you get it?"

Thor nodded. Now he understood, all right. "So…how do you know here if someone is…open…to that type of courtship?" On Asgard it was as simple as a _no, thank you_ vs. a _yes, I would be honored_, but Thor had the feeling it wasn't quite that easy on Midgard.

He voiced this opinion to Tony, who chuckled and said, "Yeah, that's a hell of an understatement. Hit on someone who doesn't swing that way here, and it's anybody's guess. It could be as easy as 'I'm not interested,' but if you run into a homophobe…" Tony shook his head. "That wouldn't be good."

"But how do I _know_?" Thor asked impatiently.

"Well, there isn't really any way to know for sure. But the safest way is to feel 'em out first. Get their number. See if they interact more to the ladies or the gents. Don't take it for granted, though—they could always be bi—oh, that's bisexual," he quickly explained when he noted Thor's confused look. "Meaning they're open to relationships with both men and women."

"I see. Most are that way on Asgard," Thor informed Tony.

Tony nodded thoughtfully. "I wondered about that, when you asked, but—hey!" Suddenly his eyes lit up with a gleeful expression that reminded Thor painfully of Loki's pre-disaster days, back when he was proud to be Thor's brother, back when he happily accepted his title of "The God of Mischief" and lived up to it with a vengance, playing pranks left and right on the royal court and amusing as much as dismaying his parents and courtiers. "You know what this means, don't you?"

Thor was almost afraid to ask. "What?"

"Someone has a crush," Tony said in a playful sing-song tone, nudging Thor in the arm. "And you're gonna tell me who it is. It's someone on the team, right? It's _gotta_ be someone on our team."

Thor shook his head. "No, friend, I cannot disclose that."

"Oh, come on! You know you can trust me, right?" Tony gave Thor his best puppy-eyes, and Thor cringed. It was true, he _did_ trust Tony—he'd come to him before S.H.I.E.L.D. when "Loki" had died, hadn't he? "Hell, I could set you up, even! Let's face it, Thor, you're not exactly an expert on Earth relationships. And you _know_ I won't tell anyone, your secret would be totally safe with me."

Thor rolled his eyes. "That, I very much doubt. However…you are right, I do need as much help as I can acquire." He sighed, and looked towards the door, a dead giveaway, he knew, but what the hell, he was about to tell anyway. "Very well, Tony. I will tell you. It _is_, as you guessed earlier, one of our teammates. It's—"

But before he could finish, the man Thor was just about to speak of came charging into Tony's living room. "Tony, they've got—oh hey Thor," Bruce panted, trying to smooth out his hair and clothes.

He was wearing pajamas, Thor noted. Ill-fitting pajamas, to be precise; the t-shirt was a bit too small and the pants were a bit too big, and they revealed just a bit more skin than Thor was sure Bruce would have been comfortable with had ladies been present. Thor, for the first time in his life, found himself blushing, a fact he was sure would not be lost on Tony Stark.

"They found them," Bruce pushed on, ignoring any discomfort Thor might have been displaying. "Loki, I mean. And Casey. They're back at S.H.I.E.L.D. now. We have to get down there. God only knows what they'll do to Casey if we're not there."

Thor was shocked to see Tony actually display concern at Bruce's words. "Yeah…I doubt she could stand up to Fury's idea of an interrogation, that kid's more of a mouse than you are, for God's sake." He turned to Thor. "C'mon, MC Hammer. Let's go see what your brother's been up to, shall we?" Thor jumped to his feet, heart pounding at the thought of seeing his brother, the conversation he'd been having with Tony briefly forgotten.

"I'll call Steve, he'll probably want to be there for this," Bruce said as he started to jog back down the hall.

"Get dressed while you're at it!" Tony shouted after him. He turned to Thor, huge, mischievous grin on his face. "So…you've got the hots for Banner?"

Thor felt his face turn bright red again. He didn't have to know Midgard slang to know what that meant. "Oh…hush up," he grumbled, ignoring Stark's laughter as the two of them charged down the stairs, Tony calling directions to JARVIS as they went.

0o0

_Dark. Pounding. Ow. Head hurts, why does my head hurt? Shit, I can't move, why can't I move?_

Casey tried to force her eyes open. Whatever room she was in, it was very brightly-lit. And to make matters worse, she was restrained—very tightly restrained, by the way—to what felt like a cot.

_Well, hey. At least they didn't use an operating table this time._

She was in what seemed to be a giant glass dome. Except it couldn't be glass; if they thought they were dealing with a "mutant," they would use something unbreakable, she knew that from experience. But what she couldn't figure out was why they had her under a dome at all. Was this some kind of magnifying glass? Could she risk trying to escape, or would they be in there the moment she moved, guns drawn, sedatives out, ready to lock her down and dissect her?

She turned her head to the side—she could still do that, at least—and her eyes nearly popped out: Loki was across from her, restrained in the same manner she was, with thick metal cuffs around his wrists and ankles…but with one difference: he had on a futuristic-looking muzzle that covered his mouth and chin entirely, and strapped around his head like a medieval torture device.

Immediately, blind fury began to pour through Casey's veins. How _dare_ they treat her friend like this? No. They had separated her from her father, but they would not hurt her friend. Her, they could have. She'd give in to that; the more time went by, the more inevitable this outcome seemed. But her best friend—her _only_ friend—her only friend who had been through so much pain already?

_No. This is not okay._

But to her amazement, the instant their eyes locked, Loki's muzzle vanished, and he smiled at her. The restraints vanished as well, and he gracefully slid off his cot and over to her. "Are you all right, Lady Casey?" he whispered. She nodded, not trusting herself to speak. "Then be still. I've been waiting for you to awaken, so that we could escape together."

She felt a rush of affection towards him and couldn't help but smile. He returned her smile, and reached out, resting a hand over her restraints, which vanished instantly. He took both her hands in his and helped her stand up. "Excellent. Now, I think we could—"

Before Loki could finish, a booming voice reverberated around the dome, a voice that made the terrified Casey freeze in place. "_STOP!_"

The voice sounded more fearful than authoritative, and it was only a moment later that a body was right behind hers, and heavy, muscled arms were jerking her away from Loki. She fought hard, but whoever this was, he was much, _much_ stronger than you. The pair of arms yanked her around so she was facing her captor. A pair of bright, sky-blue eyes searched hers frantically. "Are you all right?" a male voice asked.

Casey struggled a little, knowing it was futile. To her immense surprise, she was immediately set on her feet. She staggered back two steps, allowing for a better view of a very tall, _very_ muscular blond man, very attractive in a 1950's good-boy sort of way. At any rate, he didn't _look_ like a government agent. He looked like an extra from a high-school production of _Grease_. And at the moment he didn't seem threatening at all. He seemed extremely concerned for her.

"I—yes. I'm fine," she stammered, unused to such treatment from her captors.

The man whirled, pointing what appeared to be a Taser at Loki. "What the hell were you doing to her?"

"Setting her free," Loki immediately replied, holding both hands up in the universal "don't hurt me" gesture. "I assure you, sir, I meant the young lady no harm."

"You're damn right you didn't," a voice growled from the entrance of the dome, and Casey whirled around to see—

"_Stark?_" she gasped, disbelieving. Tony Stark, her _boss_, was involved in this? "You—_you_!" she shrieked, pointing at him angrily. "You let me think—I _trusted_ you—you—you work for the government, don't you!"

Tony Stark moved towards her, his hands up in the same gesture as Loki's. "Whoa, there. Calm down. I'm not involved in a conspiracy, kid. I just want to know what the hell Reindeer Games over there wants with you."

By this time, the blonde man had wrestled Loki back to the cot he'd just escaped and was holding him down one-handed, searching for the restraints with the other. Confused, overwhelmed, Casey turned from Stark to point furiously at the man. "Let him go!" she shouted, and the confused man looked around to see who she was talking to. "Yes, you, Ward Cleaver! Let him go or—or I'll make you!"

Stark grabbed her firmly and held both arms behind her back. "Calm. Down," he growled. "We're trying to help you."

"Like hell you are!" She struggled to break free from his grip. "Damn it! I should have known. You just wanted me for your experiments, didn't you?" she demanded, her voice as scathing as she could make it through her near-paralyzing fear. "How long was it until I was strapped to one of your tables, huh, Stark? How long until the fucking Hulk was experimenting on _me?_"

Stark let her go, as confused as his friend, who was now frantically trying to restrain Loki with the ropes lying beneath the cot. "What the _hell_ are you talking about?"

"Oh, don't play stupid. You knew about my powers, didn't you? It's why I got the intern job, even though I didn't know a _thing_ about chemistry—"

"_Enough_."

All activity in the room instantly ceased. Everyone looked at the newcomers: A very intimidating-looking black man with an eye patch and tough-guy expression, flanked by two weapon-wielding people, a man and woman, both of whom Casey could tell were agents, and an even taller, even _more_ muscular man with long blonde hair, dressed much the same way Loki had been when he'd dropped into Casey's room. She assumed this was his brother. But that red-head looked awfully familiar…

The woman recognized Casey at the same time Casey recognized her. "Fury, stand down," she said softly. "The girl isn't a threat."

"The girl isn't the one I'm worried about," Fury replied, glaring briefly at her before turning his gaze on Loki. "It's that one."

"Fine, let Stark and Rogers deal with him, but at least let me get her out of here, she's scared to death and you aren't helping."

Fury gave a brief nod, and Natasha holstered her weapon. She hurried over to Casey and put a gentle arm around her shoulders. "Let me get you out of here. I'll explain everything. Just know S.H.I.E.L.D. doesn't have any interest in hurting you."

Casey pulled away. "And what about Loki?"

Natasha's face hardened. "Let's just say we owe him a little pain."

That was the wrong thing to say.

Casey's fear was instantly replaced by the same outrage she'd felt when she'd seen Loki tied up. And this time, it was too strong for her to fight.

The dome shattered. The cots flew apart into a thousand pieces and soared around the room. Stark, Rogers, Fury, Natasha, Thor, and the other nameless agent were thrown against the walls of the larger room the dome had stood in. The controls for the dome exploded. Steel panels flew off the walls and clanged violently on the floor.

Only Loki stood unharmed. He looked at Casey, whose face was now cut from the falling glass and exploding machinery, and hurried to her side. Wordlessly he touched her face, her hands, diligently healing each open cut.

Around the room, dazed agents were struggling to their feet. Even Thor looked disoriented. But one man, standing in the doorway, actually began to clap. Casey jumped at the sound and whirled to face him, preparing for a repeat performance.

"Now _that_ is what I call an incident." Dr. Banner stepped forward, and Casey immediately relaxed. _He_ wouldn't hurt her, whatever the others might do. "Casey, if the Other Guy were here, he'd be backing away right about now."

And Casey couldn't help but laugh. Because if quiet, serious Dr. Banner could make a joke out of what was happening—well—it couldn't be _that_ awful.

Could it?

0o0

"Okay, there's a lot of things I need to know, and I'm already almost out of patience, so I suggest neither of you play games," Fury said as he paced the conference room. The final part of his sentence was aimed straight at the new captives, both of whom looked as confused as their captors. Bruce saw the look that passed between Loki and Casey and knew beyond any shadow of a doubt that Loki wasn't controlling her. He'd seen the way controlled people acted and it wasn't like this. Whatever was happening, it wasn't brought about by magic.

"First thing I'd like to know," Fury went on, nodding towards Casey, "is who in the _hell_ you are, and how in the _hell_ you managed to blow up one of the most secure interrogation facilities in S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters without lifting a finger."

Honestly, Bruce would've liked to know that too. It did account for some of the more unexplainable accidents in his and Tony's lab, to be sure. That being said, he kind of wished he'd known ahead of time that the intern he was hiring was as volatile as himself.

It would've saved him a lot of anxiety having the whole "Other Guy" conversation, for starters.

Casey didn't quite have the spirit to glare at Fury. Instead, she glared at the conference table. Loki watched her closely. He made as though to grab her hand—but the chains around his wrists stopped him from moving too far. Bruce had nearly snorted when Fury had ordered this arrangement. _Handcuffs? Really? We just watched these two blow a secure interrogation room to kingdom come, and you're wasting your time with pathetic steel handcuffs?_

Steve looked nervous. Clint looked murderous. Tony looked as though he were trying just a little too hard to seem bored. Thor, in his Asgardian armor, was watching Loki closely. At the first _clink_ of the chains, all four of them tensed. Loki sighed. "I must protest this," he said, holding up his chained hands as best as he could. "At the very least, you could explain what offenses you believe I've committed."

"Oh, we'll get to that," Fury assured him coolly. "But first things first. Since your girlfriend isn't talking, suppose _you_ give us some answers."

Loki actually looked offended. "I would do no such thing. She has harbored and protected me, and I would _never_ betray her in such a manner. Thor"—now he appealed to his brother—"_you_ are of Asgard, _you_ know our code of honor. This girl has protected and aided a _god_, a Prince of Asgard, she ought to have a far better reward than—"

"_Enough!_" Fury roared again, and the entire table fell silent. "I want some answers and I want them _now_! You—Romanoff—you seem to know this kid, you want to tell me what the hell is going on?"

Natasha sighed and shot Casey a brief, apologetic look before saying, "She's on roughly the same level as Dr. Banner, sir."

Bruce _had_ to let out a disbelieving laugh at that. "What, are you telling me she turns into a gamma-ray beast of destruction as well? I think I'd have noticed that by now."

Natasha shot him a dirty look. "She has various telekinetic powers, which when I last saw her were extremely difficult for her to control, and has been chased by increasingly prominent branches of the government since she was thirteen years old. I assisted her in hiding until she was sixteen and able to pass for eighteen. She obtained a fake ID and went into college. That was the last time I saw her."

"Don't suppose you feel like expanding on that?" Fury asked, looking straight at Casey. She didn't look up. "No? Okay, Agent Romanoff, let's continue, then. Can you at least tell me her name?"

Tony sighed heavily from behind the Iron Man mask. "We already know that, Fury. It's Casey Kyle."

Natasha opened her mouth to reply, but a small voice from the other end of the table beat her to it: "No, it isn't."

Immediately, all eyes went straight to the now red-faced girl, who looked as though it cost her every bit of will-power she had to keep talking: "Casey was my middle name; Kyle was my dad's first name. I needed an alias when I got the fake papers, so…"

"So, what's your real name?" Tony prompted her impatiently. "And how come JARVIS couldn't find the real you in some database?" The entire team, Fury included, rolled their eyes—so like Tony to be more concerned for the potential failure of his equipment than a potential enemy.

Casey avoided his eyes. "I don't know how JARVIS works. Maybe you just never asked him? Anyway…my real name is…" She bit her lip and looked helplessly at Natasha.

Natasha nodded encouragingly. "You can tell them. They won't hurt you," she said reassuringly. "And they sure as hell won't turn you in. Fair warning, though, once they see what you can do, they may offer you a job."

Tony snorted. "And by that she means 'coerce you into taking a job.'"

"Stark," Fury said, the warning clear in his voice.

To everyone except Tony, that is. "What, I'm just saying, the kid should know—"

"Okay, Tony, that's enough," Bruce cut him off. "Casey, what they're trying to say is, you're safe here. Unless you've tried to take over the world recently, in which case they probably won't be so kind."

He tried to mimic Natasha's encouraging smile, but he knew he probably just looked pained. He badly wanted to comfort her; God knew no one had been there to comfort him when he'd been in her shoes—but he also knew better than to try. Hell, if he tried to put an arm around her right now, she'd probably blast him like she'd blasted the roomful of superheroes in the now-shattered interrogation room.

Either way, his encouragement seemed to work, because she took a deep breath and, in a nearly-inaudible voice, admitted, "It's Miranda. Miranda Stiles."

"Nice…oh hey, you wouldn't happen to be related to Ryan Stiles, would you? I mean, I don't see much of a physical resemblence, but hey, for all we know you could have a great sense of humor under there." At everyone's disbelieving stares, Tony said defensively, "What, I'm not the only one who likes _Whose Line is it Anyway,_ am I?"

"Stark, I swear to God, if you don't shut up—"

"Come on, Fury, would you look at the poor kid? She's scared to death, and if you think strapping her to a damn operating table—nice move on that one, by the way, letting her think she was about to be the target of some kind of governmental experimentation, when she's clearly dealt with that before—and then shoving her into a roomful of so-called superheroes and firing question after question at her is going to do anything other than terrify the shit out of her—"

"_TONY STARK I SWEAR TO GOD I WILL RIP OUT YOUR ARC REACTOR IF YOU DON'T SHUT THE HELL UP NOW!_"

Tony seemed totally unconcerned. "Oh. Yeah. Yell like the Hulk on a bad hair day. That'll totally break the ice."

Bruce snuck a look at Casey—Miranda—whatever the hell her name was, and instantly knew Tony was, not for the first time, dead on accurate. She'd turned ghost-white and was gripping the arms of her chair like they were lifelines. Bruce turned to Fury, who now seemed on the verge of exploding. "What I think Tony is trying to say is that if her powers are manipulated by emotion, as we saw in the interrogation room, scaring the girl half to death may not be the best idea."

Fury kept his glare on Tony, who was now making an elaborate show of examining his fingernails. "You're probably right about that one, Dr. Banner. Excuse my misconduct. Would _you_ like to try and get a few answers out of her, then?"

Fury probably expected Bruce to cower in his seat and fall silent. Instead, Bruce looked down the table. "Casey—do you still want me to call you that?" At her nod, he continued. "Okay. How long have you known Loki?"

Because that was really the heart of the issue here, and they all knew it. Maybe she had some interesting power that could be used to their advantage; maybe not. They could figure that out later. What they needed to know now was if the alien they'd apprehended twice now was of any real threat. Admittedly, at the moment, he didn't seem to be. He seemed as clueless and on-edge as Casey, and that, as Bruce saw it, was almost more threatening than if he'd been the Loki they had been introduced to, because if _this_ was the real Loki, then who—or what—had tried to steal the Tesseract and take over both earth and Asgard?

"About…" Casey paused to count. "Four—no—five weeks now."

"_What_?" Fury's eyes looked like they were about to pop out of his head. "And you didn't think it was a warning sign when he disappeared for long hours of the day to go and take over a _planet_?"

"No! I would've noticed that—he never left my room!"

"He _says_ he didn't leave your room," Clint corrected her, speaking for the first time.

"No, you don't understand. Every minute I wasn't in class, I was with him. If I could've taken him to my classes with me I would have, but we were both afraid he'd cause too much of a stir. The most he was ever alone was about three hours at a time."

Natasha looked to Fury. "Well, there goes our theory then, sir. Unless Loki duplicated himself, there's no way—"

"He can duplicate himself," Clint interrupted. "I've seen him do it."

This, interestingly enough, was where Loki broke in. "Yes, but was it a corporeal duplicate? Because I have to confess I've never managed that." Loki looked to Casey. "You are well aware of that."

Casey nodded. "It's true."

"Well, one thing you can't deny, that was _definitely_ a solid duplicate," Bruce told the others. "I think we all can attest to that." At Casey's inquisitive look, Bruce admitted, "The, uh, Other Guy may have done a bit of damage on the—uh—well, whoever it was, that led the Chitauri army."

Casey's eyes briefly flashed with admiration, before Thor spoke up again: "It's true, my brother has never managed a solid duplication of himself."

Loki closed his eyes. "Must you persist in calling me that?"

"Loki, you know I have always thought of you as a brother."

"Let's not get into this right now," Casey quickly interrupted. "I think I have a good idea of what they're talking about now, Loki. They think _you_ led that invasion we saw a couple of weeks ago. Could you please—I know you don't want to, but _please_—tell them what you showed me when you landed in my room?"

Loki shot her a reproachful look. "Oh, that's nice. You may hide your history, deflecting every question that comes our way, while I must detail my humiliations to every member of this godforsaken council?"

"Loki, please!" Casey pleaded. "They need to know or they'll arrest you!" When Loki gave hear what Bruce interpreted as a _you've gotta be kidding me_ look, she quietly offered, "What if I told them my story, too? Would that make you feel better?"

Loki sighed and looked around the table. "I want everyone to know that it is _only_ for the girl that I am doing this at all, do you understand? And my cooperation is _entirely_ dependent on your solemn vow to do her no harm."

"Yeah, yeah, Reindeer Games, we get it," Tony cut him off impatiently—patience was never Tony's strong suit, and Bruce only prayed that this time it didn't get him into trouble with either Loki or Fury, whichever was worse at this point. "Are you going to tell us what the hell you're talking about or not?"

Loki and Casey exchanged another look, after which Loki sat up straight in his chair and said, "Very well, I'll tell you."

He sounded confident, bordering on haughty, and that was extremely familiar to Bruce. But what he could truly identify with was what he heard underneath the bravado: fear. Apprehension. Nerves. He'd certainly never heard Loki sound like that. But he knew how it felt, and he only hoped that the other Avengers caught it as well.

Maybe, just maybe, Casey was right. Maybe Thor's protectiveness, his faith in his brother, had been justified all along.

Maybe Loki, against all odds, was actually innocent.


End file.
